The Doctor's Office


by Saber ShadowKitten
Nightdreams Alternative 19





Bored, bored, so very bored. Nothing to do, nothing to see. No one to drink the tea.

Spike swung his legs back and forth as he sat on the table, letting the heels of his boots thump on the metal. He looked curiously around the room, not understanding where he was or why he was there. His top half was clothed in a green gown, the bottom still in his jeans and boots. He twirled the grape flavored sucker in his mouth, which had been given to him when they had arrived.

Bored, bored, want to go home. Home with little Buffy. Home with Angel. Home was where the heart was and where they hung their hats. Hats, bats, spats, mats, cats go meow.

"Hello, Spike, I'm Dr. Walters."

Spike cocked his head to one side and studied the doctor. He was small, like his little Buffy, and round and had a beard like St. Nicholas. Was it Christmas time already? Was he a good boy? Good boys get presents, bad boys didn't get anything, that's what his mum said. Said, dead, his mum was dead. Dead, dead, dead.

Angel walked in behind the doctor, followed by Buffy. Spike looked at them both for a moment, then looked up at the ceiling, continuously thumping his feet on the metal on the side of the examining table.

"Spike, I'm going to shine this light in your eyes, ok?" Dr. Walters said. He held up a penlight and flicked it on. Spike lowered his head and the doctor shined the light first in one blue eye, then the other.

Lights, lights, look at the lights. Lights that didn't burn.

"Well, his pupils respond to the bright stimulus," the doctor said. He held up his finger. "Spike, follow my finger with your eyes." Twirling the sucker in his mouth, Spike watched as the finger moved left, then right, then up, then down.

Following the finger, the finger, the finger. Following the finger, wherever it may go.

"His visionary reflexes are fine," Dr. Walters said. He snapped his fingers next to Spike's ear. Spike turned his head quickly with the sound. "Audio reflexes seem fine, as well." He snapped his fingers at the other ear and Spike, once again, turned his head quickly towards the sound.

Snap, crackle, pop, Rice Krispies. With marshmallows. Little pink and blue marshmallows. He liked marshmallows in his hot chocolate. Marshmallows were soft, like his little Buffy. Soft Buffy, soft marshmallows. Soft, soft, so very fluffy. Fluffy Buffy.

Spike giggled and looked over at Buffy. "Fluffy Buffy," he mumbled around the sucker, a grin on his face.

"Normally, I'd check his other bodily responses, but since he's not living, per se, I think we can skip that part," Dr. Walters said. He shook his head. "Never in a million years did I think I'd be doctoring a vampire."

"And never in that million will you tell anyone," Angel stated.

"Who would believe me?" the doctor asked. "Besides, with the amount of money you two paid me, I could retire tomorrow if I wanted to. Why would I jeopardize that amount?"

Talking, talking, talking, talking. Why was everyone always talking? Why weren't they talking to him? Nobody talked to him, nobody loved him. Sad, sad, so very sad.

The doctor looked at Spike. "What's your name?"

Name, name, what's in a name? A rose by any other name smells just as stinky. Stinky, pinky, pinky and the brain, brain, brain, brain.

"Do you know your name?" Dr. Walters asked again.

"Spike," Spike replied, then grinned around his sucker. "Spike, Spike, railroad spike, Spike has a great big spike in his pants."

Buffy hit her forehead and groaned. Angel just shook his head. "His sentences have been like that this whole week," Angel told the doctor. "Fragmented. Child-like. As I told you earlier, Drusilla 'looked' into his head, but all she could see was mixed up thoughts. Disassociated ones."

"And he didn't suffer any blows to the head or other injuries that you know of?" Dr. Walters asked.

"Not that I know of," Buffy replied.

"Well, I may have...uh...beat him up a little," Angel confessed, shifting on his feet.

Whip me, beat me, baby, baby, baby.

Buffy looked up at Angel. "You did? When was this?"

"When you came to LA. I...er...smelled him on you and...," Angel trailed off with a shrug.

"But he was acting weird before that," Buffy said. She glared at Angel "Not that I'm happy with you beating him up."

Buffy, Buffy, little Buffy. Sweet little Buffy. Ewes so fluffy. Love little Buffy. Love ewes.

"Love sheep," Spike declared, causing all eyes to turn to him. He bit down on his sucker and it cracked loudly.

"That's very nice, Spike," Dr. Walters said. "Now, why don't you lay down and we'll get started, ok?"

Spike laid down on the white paper and it crinkled under him. He turned his head so he could see Buffy and Angel. They looked sad to him. Sad, sad, so very sad. Why did everyone seem so sad?

"Now, I'm going to put these little circles on your head, Spike, and I need you to hold very still," Dr. Walters said.

Spike could feel little objects being pressed to his scalp under his hair. He continued to lay there, not moving, as the doctor instructed. He watched Angel and Buffy talking quietly to one another and crunched down on his sucker again. They both looked at him and he smiled, lifted his fingers and waved. Buffy waved back, a sad smile on her face and Angel frowned.

Daddy unhappy, sad. Going to get punished for being bad. Bad boys got punished, that's what mum said. That's what Angel's said. Smack, crack, across the back. Big boys didn't cry. No, no, no.

"Alright, now I'll turn the EEG on and we'll see what Spike's brain-waves are up to," Dr. Walters said. "This test will take thirty minutes. If one of you would like to sit in here and make sure he doesn't move..."

"I will," Buffy said.

"Very well. Angel, perhaps while we are waiting, you'd permit me to do a more in depth study of vampire physiology..." The doctor's voice trailed off as the door closed behind him and Angel.

Buffy pulled a chair over next to the table and sat down. Spike watched her with child-like blue eyes. He reached up and took the sucker stick out of his mouth and offered it to her. She smiled sadly. "Thanks," she said, taking it from him.

"Welcome," Spike replied. "Why you sad, little Buffy?"

"I'm sad because you're sick," Buffy said. She reached forward and brushed her hand over his cheek.

Soft hand, soft hand, smells so sweet. Touching cheek. "I'm not sick," he said quietly. "I love you-ou-ou-ou-ou-"

"Shh," Buffy shushed, putting her finger over his lips. Tears welled in her eyes. "I know you do. But you have to lay still, ok?"

Crying, sighing, why was she crying? He didn't like it when his little Buffy was sad or mad or bad. Only glad. Happy, happy, little Buffy. She made the darkness all sunny...

Spike laid there silently, watching Buffy, his thoughts skittering all over, until Angel and the doctor returned. The doctor removed the pads from his scalp, then he was led to another room and strapped down on another table. The doctor told him not to move, as did Buffy and Angel, and then they left the room. He stared up at the ceiling until the table moved into the machine.

"Hello?" he called out. "Hello? Echo? Where did everybody go?"

"We're right here, Spike," Buffy's voice came over the speaker near his ear. "Just lay still, ok?"

"Home, home, want to go home," Spike said. "Take me home. Soft blanket. My blanket. Yellow blanket. Soft, soft, soft little Buffy."

"Shh, Spike, it's ok," Buffy said soothingly, her voice tinny. "It's ok. We'll go home as soon as the tests are done."

"Wanna go home, my home, your home," Spike said, his voice growing higher and higher with each word. "Mummy, mummy, where's my mum? Big boys don't cry, don't cry, don't cry. Buffy, Buffy, little Buffy. Help me, don't cry. Cry, cry, die, die. I don't wanna die."

"Spike, shh, it's ok, shh," Buffy said. He felt her hand take his. "You're not going to die. I'm right here. Shh."

Slow tear tracks ran from Spike's eyes down his cheeks. He stared up at the yellowish ceiling of the machine over him. There was a little black 'X' on it. He was scared. So scared. Very scared. He wanted to go home. He wanted his blanket. His soft little blanket. Soft, soft, soft.

"Spike, can you lay quietly for me?" Buffy asked. "The sooner the doctor starts, the soon we can go home."

"Quiet, quiet, Spike can be bloody quiet," Spike whispered. "Home, Buffy, home little Buffy."

"I'm going to go in the other room now," she said. "You just lay still and quiet. Think happy thoughts."

"Happy, happy, happy little Buffy," he murmured. "Love my little Buffy happy."

Spike closed his eyes and felt Buffy let go of his hand. He heard a hum and listened to it, finding music in the noise. He began to hum tunelessly along with it, not moving as Buffy told him. He didn't know how long he was in the machine, he no longer knew how to keep track of the time. He just went along with what Buffy and Angel told him.

Eventually, the humming stopped and the table he was on moved. He felt someone take his hand and he opened his eyes to see Buffy smiling motherly at him. "We're all done, Spike. Time to go home."

There was no place like home. Home on the range. Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers. Texas rangers. Walters. Dr. Walters. Was he a Texas ranger?

Spike was helped off the table and then helped with putting his t-shirt and duster back on. Buffy led him out of the doctor's office by hand to the car, with Angel walking behind them, and then taken home.

But not before he got another sucker. An apple one.



End 1